


You are my Escape

by 12D3Noods



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2doc - Freeform, Angst, Casual Sex, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Love/Hate, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phase Three (Gorillaz), Slow Build, Smut, Suspense, plastic beach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-08 04:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12D3Noods/pseuds/12D3Noods
Summary: 2D thought Murdoc to be the last person he would be willing to see considering his treatment on the island, but slowly he'll come to realize that maybe what's forming between them is what he's been longing for, an escape.UPDATE: Chapters have all been revised! I am aiming for about 10 chapters (Thank you for your patience and continuous support!)





	1. Caring for You

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave suggestions, critiques and requests.

Mornings became tedious to the blue haired singer that lay on his bed with his hands folded on his chest while he listened for that clunking Cyborg to deliver his breakfast. He would repeat the same routine, every morning, as if he were chasing an outline of a circle: wake up, lay, wait, eat, watch a film, eat, film, lay...He grew tired just thinking about it. Cyborg unlocked the door and entered with her tray, set it on the nightstand. Then she stood over him to assess his health. He could have told her he felt like shit, he didn’t need her eyeing him up like that whale outside his window. _Sodding whale_ , he thought, _I ‘ate whales._

“Prisoner is functional,” she concluded.  


“Prisoner,” he grumbled. Leave it to Murdoc to program her with that ruddy term.

“Prisoner,” he said it again in spite as he sat up to examine the food Cyborg left him, if he could even call it that. It looked more like a mound of flaky, yellowish mashed potato mix from a box. If he had known Murdoc was this bad at cooking, he would have prepared himself ahead of time, before he was "kindly gassed" and shipped off to the island. 

“What's the long face for, mate?”

2D looked up to find Murdoc leaning in the doorway with a cigarette in his mouth. His gruff voice sounded as though he'd coughed it to pieces, at least 2D hoped that was the reason.  


“What do ya mean by that, Murdoc?” The bassist's name snapped from his mouth, betraying the composure he tried to keep. 

“I mean what’s your problem mate, you haven’t touched your food in days.”  


“Yes I have.”  


“Bollocks.”

2D clutched his fork. How would he know how much he’s eaten? It’s not like he paid a lick of attention to him since their arrival on the island. He hadn’t barely seen the bastard aside from the brief recording sessions in the studio, during which Murdoc didn't even look at him. And why not? It's not like 2D could do anything more than try to strike a little fear into him with a hollowed glare. Murdoc? He snorted. Murdoc wasn’t afraid, no, he didn't even care that his singer was starving to death. And quite frankly, 2D didn't care much for the other man either. He thought of him as an arse for coming down to ‘check’ on him, or more likely just torment him with his presence.

“How would you know? You don’t even know I exist…Or act like it,” 2D spat bitterly toward the plate of mush.   


“Really?” Murdoc growled. “Get your head out of your arse mate. You’re 2-D, my singer.”  


“Your prisoner,” he corrected.  


“That’s a rather harsh term.”  


“You programmed it in her. And your wrong if you fink you can replace Noodle with that filthy rust bucket.”  


“I never said I could replace her with Cyborg. It’s a, hmm~ temporary arrrrangement until Noodle returns.”  


“She can’t return when she’s dead.” The words left a bitter note on 2D’s tongue. His nose twitched.

“Well... _If_ she’s dead.”  


“What do you mean Muds?”  


2D glanced at him and he averted his gaze to the film cases stacked against the wall.

“Where did you get those?” Murdoc pointed at them and 2D shifted his eyes to register the new subject.

“Them films? They come in the post. Just got some the other day actually, dropped off on the beach by them seagulls I fink. Cybrog takes me out to fetch them and then I bring them back here to watch. I’ve got Dawn of the Dead, eeehh...Evil Dead? I fink there’s some others I’m forgetting but they’re not about zombies...still watchable though.”

Murdoc nodded to pretend he was listening to him ramble on about the films. He was more interested in those thin hands that nervously wrung into holes in the singer's shirt. They looked like worn leather wrapped around bone with no meat to give them that plump roundness fingers were supposed to have. The rest of him, thankfully, was dressed so Murdoc could only imagine what skeletal figure lay dormant beneath those ratty clothes. He turned his head stubbornly to resist those thoughts. 

“Eat,” he demanded.  


“I-I-I’m not hungry.”  


“You’re a sack of bones. You’ll wither away at this rate and I need you alive. Eat.”  


“You didn’t care if I ate yesterday,” 2D mumbled.

“Dents!” Murdoc sighed when 2D flinched at the bite in his tone. “I came here because you’re not eating. So fuckin’ eat. I’m not leaving till you do.”

He sat down on edge of the bed. 2D scooted away, huddling in the corner. This wasn’t the Murdoc he knew and it frightened him.

“I’m not eating with you watching me!” He shouted.  


“I’m not watching you Dullard, I’m not even looking at you so quit yappin’ your mug and eat.”  


2D ate in the thick silence that settled between like the puffs of smoke from Murdoc's pursed lips. He lifted his gaze to the bassist who had busied himself with making rings in the lingering smoke.

“Why are you doing this Murdoc? Why are you really here?”  


“To make youuu eat, I said that once already Dents.”  


“W-well...I’ve finished.”  


“Then I’m leaving eh? I’ve got important work to do.”

Murdoc stubbed the butt of his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on the nightstand then left without acknowledging the dumbfounded singer. 2D cursed in his wake. What did he expect? A decent conversation, something to distract him from the enclosed box he’d be forced to live in? Certainly not...apparently not. He wouldn't admit that he'd hoped.

“Bastard!”  


He hit his plate and it crashed to the floor.


	2. Surfaced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By mistake, Cyborg brings an uninvited 2D from his cell to visit Murdoc upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave suggestions, critiques and requests.

2D refused to look at Cyborg when she came to deliver his meal at night, that is, until he noticed there was no plate set on his bed. To his disgust he had to face the memory of his dead best friend and wonder why she too no longer cared for him.

“Wh-where’s me food,” he mumbled.

Cyborg twitched. Her arm shot out with an open hand for 2D to take. When he placed his hand in hers, she pulled him to his feet.

“You are to get dressed, prisoner.”  


“I am dressed.”  


She didn’t seem to understand his claim. He sighed.

“Fine b-but you can’t stay in here while I’m changing.”  


“I must stay to make sure the prisoner is appropriately dressed,” she stated.  
“E-eh...er-”

How would he do his? He wasn’t taking his clothes off in front of Noodle’s clone, even if it wasn’t the real one. Cyborg was a replica of the 14 year old girl he tried to protect from such...unsightly things. He hesitated, then grabbed a less battered shirt from the floor and slipped it over the one he had on, trying to maneuver himself through the sleeves in order to change without actually removing anything. Finally he managed to get the new shirt on despite that it was backward and inside out.

“C-cyborg....ah, Noodle? Could you turn around so I can put me trousers on?”  


“Negatory.”

“Oh dear.” 2D whined as he rubbed his chin, pondering how he was supposed to switch his trousers like he did his shirt. He grumbled and searched the room for an answer before he realized it was standing in front of him. She was capable of simple tasks too right, ones that didn't involve guns or deliveries?

“Uh, hey love can you hold this for me?” He handed her the blanket from his bed which she held limp in her stiff hands.  


“Er- no ah, like dis.”

2D positioned her arms for her, raising the blanket high enough to shield his lower regions from her view. Sighing in relief he quickly jumped into another pair of trousers then sat down to slip on his pre-laced shoes. Cyborg continued to hold the blanket in place. He chuckled at her.

“You can put dat down now love, I’ve done changing.”

He couldn’t deny that she was as cute as the original Noodle, the way she lowered the blanket and peered over the edge as if she was curious to see the difference. Her eyes were dull though, not ablaze with wonder like Noodle's. She was stuck in a permanent state of awkwardly despondent confusion that 2D wished he could help her solve. Could he help a robot?

“What am I dressed for?”

She snapped from her momentary daze to focus on him, scanning his ensemble before she drug him from the room by his wrist.

“Th-that didn’t quite-Oaf!” He tripped on the stairs, his arm bent inward from her insistent grip. He winced and stumbled back into step behind her.

“Where have you been you insolent hunk of-” Murdoc paused when he saw 2D over her shoulder.

“You ordered to retrieve 2D, the prisoner,” she stated. Murdoc smacked himself in the face.  


“I didn’t!” He growled. “I had said I would get that idiot if he-Ragh!”

He flung his arm into a shelf of glass vials and they toppled onto the floor, shattering. 2D flinched.  


“I can go back mate,” he offered.  


Murdoc looked at him, daggers in his eyes. Then he snapped his fingers.

“Cyborg, clean this mess.”  


“I’ll just be going down then -” When she released his wrist, 2D tip-toed toward the door. 

“No,” Murdoc sat on a chair beside the fireplace.  


“Stay for a while. But don’t speak. I can’t stand to hear you whining.”  


2D raced to the carpet and curled up in a ball on the near the open flame, his skin tingled from the warmth he’d forgotten about, having been underwater so long.


	3. Talking it Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2D confesses that he wants to leave the island but Murdoc reminds him that he's stuck there, with him. 2D comes to think that maybe...that isn't the worst thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave suggestions, critiques and requests.

“2D...Stu-Pot?”

“Don’t call me that Murdoc.”

Murdoc rolled his eyes and passed the singer a drink, a gleaming bottle of frothy beer that hissed at him after the cap had been popped. 2D took it reluctantly, sniffling into the neck of the bottle.

“I’m not poisoning you.”

“I didn’t say you was.”

“I’m not drugging you either.”

2D gulped the fizzy liquid, craving the ticklish sensation prickling his throat. He licked his lips when he finished half of it and tilted the bottle toward the bassist.

“Cheers.”

Murdoc nodded to him in silent agreement before drinking his beer.  


“So, is she alive?"

The fireplace crackled. Embers fluttered from the pit, they sailed through the still air, above the mantel where they illuminated the shadows that stretched from their feet to the ceiling. 2D wiggled his toes in his flip flops, digging his nails into the rubber to busy himself while he waited for the bassist to respond. A calming silence fell between them aside from the occasional slurp from Murdoc as he nursed his beer. Cyborg was idle against the wall where she was plugged into the charging station to rest. _The real Noodle wouldn’t have to do that_ , 2D thought, _wonder if that makes it harder, to like, live and stuff, having to recharge that way._

“I believe so,” Murdoc answered.  


“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  


“You didn’t ask,” the bassist said simply, in a matter of fact, pinning the issue back on the singer who retaliated with a hot growl.

“You haven’t given me the chance! I thought she was dead and you knew that Murdoc! You knew I thought that and you kept it from me!”  


“It’s not like it was a secret, Dents.”  


“You should Have told me!” 2D shouted. His hand strangled the neck of his beer, knuckles frosty white against his already pale skin.  


“Quiet down idiot or she’ll think you’re attacking me.”

That wasn't what he expected to hear. The anger that pulsed through him had suddenly vanished and was replaced with gaping astonishment. 

“....seriously?”

Leave it to Murdoc, programming Cyborg to detect vocals beyond their normal range in the event he be accused, yelled at, or blasted by gunfire. God forbid he be told off for his wrong doings. She was like a wiry mum that took care of his problems when he wanted her to and he prayed she wasn’t meant for _all_ his problems.

“Yes,” he stated. “I built her to locate peculiar sounds and your pitiful moaning takes the cake there.”

2D glared at that smug grin on Murdoc's glowing face.

“You’re an arse, a gagging old arse.”  


“And you have blue hair. What’s changed mate?”

“I want to leave.”  


“You can’t,” Murdoc placed his bottle on the stand beside his chair then lifted one leg atop the other and leaned back comfortably with his eyes closed.  


“Why not?”  


“Pirates.”  


“I could escape.”  


“You can’t do that either mate, last time I checked we were at point nemo in the middle of absolutely nowhere!” he laughed like it were a joke. "And remember what happened the last time you pulled a bold stunt like that? On the raft in the ocean? I'm surprised you didn't wee yourself mate." 

“I thought for certain that whale was going to gobble you up, Massive out there..." his voice trailed into a merry hum. "Mmm...yeah, Massive has a nice ring to it don’t you think Dents? Let’s name it Massive.”

"That storm came outta nowhere Murdoc! I almost died out there! I don't even know how I got back alive!"

"Sush, Dents. You're whining again....You can't escape. Accept that now and you'll feel a whole lot better."

Murdoc was right, as always. He couldn’t escape with that whale, those bloody pirates circling the island or the endless thunderstorms on the outer edges of the horizon. He would be better off with the type of escape that drove his switchblade through his heart but he couldn’t do that, it would hurt and it was messy. 2D laid on his side with his elbows as support and exhaled the excess adrenaline from his system. He studied the bassist quietly, how his face glowed from the fire, how he was rather funny looking with those thick eyebrows wriggling beneath that glob of black hair like caterpillars under a leaf. He admired the way his nose was like a misshapen lump of clay that someone, somewhere would think of as 'art'. He chuckled and when Murdoc wasn’t phased by the sudden noise, he knew he must have fallen asleep.

“You don’t seem like such a thick headed sod when you’re asleep Murdoc.”

2D got up to get a thin blanket from the hooks near Cyborgs charging station. She whirred, her head rolling on her neck to turn toward him. He cringed inwardly at the abnormal movement but smiled at her regardless. She might be a ‘temporary’ replacement but she was still a part of Noodle and something about that made 2D want to hug her and never let her go again. But he settled with a gentle pet on her head then he brought the blanket to Murdoc, folding it over him before he decided to go back to his cell. He didn’t want to be there if Murdoc awoke in his usual horrid mood.


	4. Pirates at Bay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc needs to take care of their reoccurring nuisance...pirates...but when 2D escapes his cell to see what's going on, he doesn't realize that he's put both of their lives in jeopardy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave suggestions, critiques and requests! 
> 
> This is one of the practice chapters for extensions. I hope it works!

Murdoc cracked his stiff neck. The fire had burnt to ashes that coated the worn logs like gray snow. Snow, that was something he hadn’t seen in a long time. England never had a bout of snow, if any, normally it was just icy rain that pelted your jumper and crusted it in a thin layer of frost. It had never been much, but it was a cold enough greeting from the heavens that Murdoc loathed it. He thought that this tropical paradise would have been a nice change. And after having lived on the island for a while, he learnt that it's tropical seasons had only two temperatures: hot and hotter. Both of which allowed him to cook eggs on the balcony during the day and smoke on it at night clad in his undies. The air conditioning rarely worked. When he tried to lower it, it clanked and groaned and all he received was a single puff of lukewarm air. He couldn’t complain though, he didn't necessarily miss the cold and poor 2D was trapped in the basement where the fresh air disintegrated, leaving the room sweltering like an oven.

Actually...where was 2D?

He jolted from the chair, his blanket falling to his feet. Cyborg awoke from her sleep mode and adjusted her head to locate the agitated 'click click click's of Murdoc’s cuban heels as he paced through the living room.

“Where is he?”  


“Command unknown. Object unidentified.”  


“2D! Stuart! Where is he? Tell me!” he demanded, throwing his empty beer bottle at the mantel in unchecked rage.

“Prisoner has retreated to the designated area.”

“I didn’t tell you to escort him there!” He snapped.

“Prisoner has retreated to the designated area.”

Murdoc grabbed her by the wrist but when she didn’t budge he figured she was still attached to the charging station, which meant that she must have been immobilized when the singer went to his room. He rubbed his chin as he noticed the blanket that had covered him. He didn’t remember getting it.

“That-Agh! Bloody hell that bastard! Cyborg!”  


She saluted him.

“Clean this place. Then I want you to set up the studio.”  


“Yes sir.”

Cyborg unhooked the plug from her neck, rebooted her systems then walked to the broom and began sweeping the ashes from the rug. Meanwhile, Murdoc headed downstairs.

The singer was face down on the mattress, drooling onto the pillow with his hips raised in the air. Loud, rumbling snores coursed through his lanky body as he dreamt. Murdoc wondered how the singer could sleep like that, his knees supporting the uneven position as though he were stuck midway through some sort of contemporary dance. This was probably the explanation for the poor flexibility he witnessed as the singer attempted to ‘express himself’ in one of their music videos which wound up getting his knob trapped in a clapper. He chuckled fondly at the memory. That silly oblivious sod was the 2D he kidnapped, not this lump of gangly limbs that, had he been awake, would have fought to get him out.

“2D?” Murdoc reached over and shook the sleeping man.

“Satan, you’re like a bag of cement,” he muttered darkly, knocking the singer onto his back.

“Wake up!”

“W-what? What!” 2D flung his arms out in surprise as though the rude awakening had been part of a chaotic nightmare.  


“Calm down! It’s me!”

“Murdoc... what…? Why are you…? Wot are you doing down here?”  


“You disappeared. I thought you may have...hmm, tried to escape again.”

“You said it yourself,” he grumbled tiredly. “I can’t do it. I don’t want to be whale food, or, ah, pirate ...food?”

“They’re pirates, not cannibals Dullard.”  


“What do you want Murdoc? If it’s me films you can-Fuumph!”

Murdoc pushed his hand onto the singer’s mouth, his eyes darting from one corner to the next.

“Don’t move. Stay here, I mean it.”

Panicked nods granted the singer his freedom from the tight grip. He gasped. Murdoc swiftly exited the room, locking the door behind him with an audible click that made the singer flinch. That’s when he heard them, a distant rumbling overhead. Bombs struck the island and lit the surface of the water. 2D saw them from the porthole, the explosions that split the blue water like lighting. He dove under his bed. It was the only safe place he could think of. His place to escape from the sea fiends that wanted their blood...well, Murdoc’s blood.

***

“Pirates,” he grumbled.

Helicopters swarmed around the island like bees, looking to land on the playboy mansion Murdoc had built and burn it under the reign of gunfire. Cortez ruffled his feathers, spread his wings and screeched at the intruders. Murdoc would have been proud of his companion, had he the time to properly acknowledge the bird’s fearlessness but there were other, more important matters at hand that required his undivided attention. Those brazen pirates were asking, no begging, to be obliterated by his trusty Cyborg. He cast his hand over the balcony to shield the feathered creature there and simultaneously signal his attack.

“Cyborg! Shoot them down!"

The Cybrog replica of the girl soldier took to the island’s grounds. Her jaw unhinged from her head and slowly extended to fit the barrel of a gun inside. She spat at bullets at the intruders. Murdoc ducked as a bullet ricocheted off the wall of the building just above his head. He grunted and shooed the bird into the building. If Cyborg performed as she usually did, then he had nothing to fret about. If. But the possibility of her failure was a mere sliver of chance, that point zero, zero one percent.

Although, he knew more than anyone that relying on faith was like gripping a greasy rope for dear life.

Because sometimes it was a risk.

He was willing to overlook that fact like he did that slim chance, but he couldn’t do the same for the speck of blue he noticed emerging in his peripheral view.

“Dents!” He snatched the singer by his collar, yanking him closer under his threatening glare.  


“I thought I should check on you! W-what the hell would I do if you were dead mate and you’d actually have locked me down there?”

“But-” he growled. “I did lock you in!”

“Found this under me bed, I think your robot left it. Or maybe you did but-”

2D held up a thin barrette in his fingers.

“I've seen Noodle use them before so I thought it was from her, er- twin? Thing?," he explained. “She jimmied the lock on your Winnie at Kong Studios once to get somethin'-...I-it wasn’t anything bad! It...I think it was for a CD or somethin' but...Or maybe? No…”

“Get inside!” Murdoc swung his arm, frightening the raven that sat upon his shoulders. It fluttered its wings, smacking his cheek as payback for the scare.

“They’ll kill you!”

“No, they’ll kill you! It’s your blood they’re after mate, not mine!”  


“And have you thought about what they’ll do to someone who’s on my side? You want to know what real torture is like huh? _Do you_?”  


“N-no Muds I-”

“Then get inside!”

One of the helicopters came nearer, it’s blades cutting through the air, numbing their eardrums with its powerful drone. 2D ran to the doors but the handles didn’t budge. He jammed the barrette into the lock, wiggling it, panic rapidly consuming him whole like a serpent, constricting the pink colour from his face. Murdoc noticed the singer in his desperate fight against the stubborn door.

“What are you doing mate!”

The serpent was tempting him now, slithering across his feet, wrapping itself around his ankles. He felt his heart thudding in his chest.

“Duck Dents!”

Cyborg deflected another round of bullets.

 _Point zero, zero one percent_ , he reminded himself in a lengthy sigh. Cyborg was more than capable as their protector. She was a high-tech version of Noodle with built-in guns, calculated to perfection beyond human capabilities. Murdoc trusted her to destroy the chopper that had flown into their territory.

“Muds there’s nowhere to hide!”

“Figure it out! Satan!” Murdoc drove both hands through the tousled black hair on his brow as he tried to think of a plan to escape.

“I’m going to die, this is how it ends,” 2D whimpered to himself as he crouched in the far corner of the balcony where cobwebs stuck to him. He watched as the helicopter rotated toward him, it’s guns aiming in their general direction.

“I-I’m going to die Murdoc!” he cried into his hands.

“No you won’t mate, not if I have something to do about it!”

"What do you mean Murdoc?" 2D cried as he watched the bassist's shadow rapidly growing along the rail.

_“Murdoc!”_

Taking risks meant accepting the consequences, that was how you gambled.

If anything, Murdoc knew that. He was a gambling man.


	5. Indispensable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2D doesn't know what he'll do if he's the only survivor on the island, maybe it wouldn't be so bad with Murdoc finally off his back...but, then again, he would be rather lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave suggestions, comments, and critiques! 
> 
> -For anyone who is interested, I am looking for a proofreader! Let me know in an email using the link from my profile page.

A green arm hung backward over the rail, blood dripping from its fingertips like red wine. The drops fell heavy and slow, as if time had forgotten how to move forward just as 2D, who sat under the oncoming droplets in awe, had forgotten what it was like to breathe. They splattered on his arms, a constellation of crimson stars that formed a picture of death on his skin.

“Murdoc!” He screamed in agony, tilting his head up to the limp figure, the droplets landing on his nose. Their coppery scent made his stomach turn, but not as harshly as the silence that followed his cry.

Where was that ‘dullard’? 'Dents'? 'Faceache'? 'Circus monkey'?

Hell, he wouldn’t care if he’d called him Stuart. _Anything_! Anything other than the silence that poisoned his the hope in his heart with it’s venom.

“Murdoc!”

The pirates had gone, assuming their goal had been met or possibly they were bored from taking strikes at a young girl that remained unshaken at her post. 2D called for her though he doubted she would listen to his cries for she was built to heed only one man’s voice and that voice had gone.

“Cyborg please! It’s Murdoc!” 2D called over the rail, mentally praying that she would at least acknowledge him.

Her master’s name seemed to phase her since she turned her head to locate the distressful call. Then she saw the bassist slung over the rail of the balcony with Cortez nudging him as if to say “come on, they’ve gone now, you can stop pretending.” That’s it, he was pretending. It was an act! 2D should have known from the start! He was just another component in this intricate game the bassist panned out. He offered a meek chuckle at the thought but when Murdoc didn’t budge to tell him ‘enough of that racket!’ he lost that source of relief and quickly realized he had to find another before he went crazy at the sight of his best mate toppled like a drunk man from a bar fight. Somehow this was part of the plan, it had to be. Murdoc always had a plan. Cyborg must have been in on it too. She came to his assistance, immediately carrying him inside on her back while 2D remained on the balcony until the day faded into night. Stars made good better company than the walls. 

“He can’t be dead,” he whispered into his knees which were hugged into his shivering chest.

“H-he can’t. I won’t believe it if he is. What if them pirates come back? Or Cyborg breaks down again, blimey I can’t fix her!”

His nails carved into his head.

“N-no no no no this can’t be happening!”

“Prisoner is unstable.”

2D moved his arm so he could see the Cyborg Noodle standing in the doorway. She must have heard him making the ‘peculiar noises’ Murdoc programmed her to detect. Good thing too, he wasn’t prepared to spend a night outside swatting flies that thought he was another piece of washed up junk, although, he couldn’t find much difference between them with the blood crusted to his skin like mud and the humidity dampening his ratty clothes. That and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d properly washed with clean water. With Murdoc dead, Cyborg was on her last battery life and maybe if he behaved, he could sneak in a shower or two before she put him in that cell, locked him in and left him to rot. Suddenly, the ocean sounded much more appealing for a wash and that whale might offer him a hand while he’s at it.

Cyborg brought 2D back from his thoughts when she pulled him to his feet and lead him inside. She guided him upstairs to Murdoc’s bedroom where the bassist lay in his bed with prominent bullet wound in his shoulder, or was it his collar? 2D wasn’t particularly keen on which body parts ended and where others began even with his family’s background in medicine. He was positioned at his bedside by Cyborg and handed a first aid kit. He set it on the mattress, his fingers tapping the tin lid anxiously.

“What am I to do with this?”

“Charge, twenty percent,” she said, plugging herself into the charger. Her pupils dilated as she went into sleep mode. 2D hesitated before tapping her with his foot.

“Uh...Cyborg? Can you hear me love?”

“Noodle?” he tried but his efforts were in vain.

Murdoc and now the robot too, brilliant.

“A-alright let’s see here,” 2D mumbled to himself.

“Sorry mate, I’ll just be a moment.”

What was he thinking? That Murdoc would jump up and yell at him? He wasn’t that lucky.

“I fink this is….er-, kya..uh...yeah this one should do the trick. Just hold still Muds, well, no actually you’re fine as you are.”

He grabbed a bottle from the kit and tried to make out what the water logged labels read but the ink had melted from the wrapper. One bottle was considerably larger than the rest which meant it must have been useful. And so, 2D used a cotton swab to soak the liquid inside then dabbed at the wound. Murdoc’s unconscious body jolted, causing 2D to stumble backward, trip on the wires that connected Cyborg to the wall and fall onto the vanity. Jars wobbled from the impact but managed to regain balance upon their shelves. 2D tried to stand up but his foot was caught under a cable. He fell back again, knocking the jars off their shelves and onto his head.

“Where are the bloody migraine pills in that stupid kit?” he groaned as he flicked glass out of his hair.

2D returned to Murdoc’s side and dabbed the wound once more, this time prepared when his body twitched from the sizzling medicine.

“Erm...Right I’ll just use this then. Well...or maybe this….Which one?”

He had a roll of gauze in one hand and mesh cotton squares in the other as he tried to remember which one went on first and how he would wrap the gauze around Murdoc’s torso. Was there enough of it? 2D unraveled the gauze to check. It stuck together in his hands and when he tore one clump apart another one molded together, and eventually, the gauze transformed into a big, tangled, sticky wad. He tossed it aside muttering under his breath.

“Nasty stupid glob of-”

“Charge, forty percent.”

“W-wah!” 2D scrabbled as far as he could from the metal girl which put him against the wall next to the headboard. He gripped it like a shield.

“W-Why do you have to do that!”

When her head drooped, 2D cautiously wandered around the headboard toward Murdoc to continue tending to his wound. He placed the cotton squares on the hole then cut strips of fabric from the bottom of his shirt with the medical scissors from the kit. Then, he gently pressed one hand on his chest over the cotton to hold it there as he wrapped the fabric around his chest and shoulders like he had done with that injury he had on his arm years ago. He glanced at Murdoc’s face to reassure himself that he wouldn’t wake up to find the singer leaning close enough to taste his breath as he dug his free hand between him and the bed to wrap him up. There was warmth radiating from the bassist that made the singer pause. He centered his hand in the crook of his back.

Dead people were cold.

Murdoc was warm.

2D held onto him, gazing down at his stoic expression as though it were the most mesmerising thing he’d ever seen.

“He’s not dead….yet,” he whispered as he tied the cloth at his shoulder. When he returned to the kit he was held back by his other hand that had been wrapped underneath the fabric tourniquet.

“....Yet,” he breathed.

The singer made himself comfortable on the other side of the bed, worried that if he abandoned him, he would be responsible for sealing his fate. Then again, as he leaned back on the pillows he considered how wonderful it felt to lay on something so inviting. His aching joints were massaged by the mattress springs. The goosebumps on his arms finally disappeared as he crawled beneath the shared duvet.

“Didn’t know you had this kind of taste Muds,” he mumbled to himself knowing that the other man was fast asleep, comatosed, whatever he was.

"In beds I mean. Always kinda thought you would be sleeping on somethin’...Firmer? Yeah, that’s the term for it. I like soft beds actually, when I was a wee boy my mom got me a real soft bed, I used to think she made it from the clouds and she would tell me she did, and then I wondered how she got the clouds. Never asked though because well...she wasn’t always around,” he paused to sigh, turn onto his side and gaze out at the balcony where the blood had dried on the rail in the shape of a dark brown waterfall.

“She was a nurse you see. She had a lot on her mind, always buzzing. I think I’m a lot like her in that way Muds. Got a ton on me mind. Sometimes I just sit and think really, about everything we’ve been through. You know? Like, yesterday I was thinking about the first time we met. I would tell you about it but, you was there uh, more than I was. Kind of like right now actually, how I’m here and you’re...well, you’re there but not _there_. You’re not listening to me.”

“You never listen to me.”

“And that’s another thing.”

“Why is it you don’t like me so much? What have I done wrong? I do all your singing for the albums and I write songs for you and I’ve...I’ve given up everything for you, not by choice sometimes but still. How’s that fair? You tell me.”

He frowned. Where was the sense in being angry at an unconscious man? There was none, but he still felt better as the words exploded from his mouth, laced with hatred.

“You’ve never done shit for me! Why should I have to be stuck downstairs like a fuckin’ prisoner while you get to be up here with things like a bed that don’t break your back! You sleep downstairs Murdoc! You do it! One night I’d like to see you, I’d- I’d like to see you suffer like I have being with you!”

He turned to face the bassist but what he saw wasn’t a kidnapper or a heartless old geezer that stole his freedoms, using him as for a voice he didn’t have. Murdoc looked almost innocent, like a child. 2D unraveled the jumbled mess of thoughts and emptied them from his mind so that he could focus on the sleeping man.

“Why do you have to look like that when you’re asleep Muds? I-ah, you… What are you dreaming about? What’s going on in there?”

2D poked the wrinkly green forehead. Murdoc’s eyebrows twitched and the singer giggled.

“I didn’t mean what I said, well, most of it anyway.”

He settled on his back, hands folded atop the duvet.

“I don’t think you should suffer. I just wish you understood what you put me through. It’s lonely without someone else around down there and Cyborg...she’s great with her chores but I tried having a decent conversation with her and it sort of-erm, well it didn’t quite work out. I think it made her cross with me, she didn’t bring me dinner that night.”

“Do robots get cross Muds?”


	6. Caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I guess we've all got our secrets, eh Muds?" -2D, Chapter 7 of 'You are my Escape"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't proofread this yet, revisions are likely. Please continue to like, share and comment-- I hope that you will continue to show your support as I continue to work harder and improve myself as a writer for you! Feedback/your thoughts are greatly appreciated!

“How come you never told me you had a working shower Muds!” 2D laughed as he dried his hair with a small towel. He had another one wrapped around his waist to preserve his decency while Cyborg charged at her station. 

That morning had been just as satisfying as the past few weeks. He slept soundly on Murdoc’s bed which absorbed his body like a sponge. The silk sheets caressed his legs, he didn’t kick at them like he did his own when they held him down. They folded with his movements as he tossed and turned, comforting him with their gentle embrace until he settled into deep sleep. When he awoke he felt rested, not leaden with exhaustion. His arms didn’t crack when he stretched them, instead the lean muscle pulled then limbered and he could use them for leverage as he pushed himself out of bed. 

Cyborg was not ordered to bring him food so he had to retrieve it himself from the kitchen downstairs, a freedom he hadn’t remembered how to use. As he browsed the fridge for something edible he realized that he almost missed not having to choose what to eat. If Cyborg brought it to him, he would eat it because he needed to. With so many choices, he easily abandoned the fridge and skipped breakfast altogether.

Though skipping meals gave him longer shower time which he seized with pride. He would stand under the water and let it cleanse him of the rubbery mold that grew on him like an extra layer of skin. He inhaled the sweet scent of honeydew soap from the washcloth before vigorously scrubbing through the layer. Little by little he removed the acidic stench; the grime streamed down his legs in brown streaks. 2D thought he had lost at least five kilos as he watched the murky water drip off his toes and spiral into the drain. His shoulders rolled easier without the weight of the filth he’d accumulated in the months he spent underwater, and it was uncomfortable. 

When he stepped out of the tub he stumbled, his feet slipping on the tile as his arms flailed for balance. He grasped the towel rack, it detached from the wall and he crashed to the floor with both towels over his head. A meek whimper squeezed out of his throat. He wrapped the larger towel around his waist, waded the other around his shoulders and used the wall to limp from the bathroom back to the bedroom where he greeted the unconscious bassist.

“Well, I guess you couldn’t tell me, being like you is right now,” 2D chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed, opposite of the charging station, and got dressed before Cyborg reached full charge.

“Prisoner,” she said as though he had just entered. 2D gave her a brief smile then turned to check the bandages he’d applied to Murdoc’s shoulder last night. They were clean to the singer’s relief. He leaned on the pillows with a book in his lap he’d stolen from the shelves in the radio room downstairs. The words were too complicated for him to understand but the singer found amusement in the fact that this was the sort of thing Murdoc read. He was fascinated by the bassist’s many hidden talents that he discovered during his temporary stay.

Like the complicated books, there were records from the Beetles on the shelves and trinkets from their trips overseas. 2D even found a picture frame with a faded image of Murdoc, Russel and himself from way back... _oh_ , he thought, _had to have been when we first started, me front teeth ain’t missing yet._

“Why did you keep that one Murdoc? Russel looks like he’s about to kill someone. And you’re grinning at me,” he shivered. “What was you grinning at me for? I don’t even remember that t-shirt, when did I get that?”

“Guess it’s a real shocker Muds, knowing you keep all this stuff in here. Have you any more pictures of us from back then? When we was happier? Er- you know, before we started this kidnapping business? Gassing people while they’re on holiday and shipping them off to the middle of nowhere, making them sing ‘till they’re crying. Or almost killing our family members. You said Noodle is alive. We should be looking for her. I don’t get it Muds, how can you just sit here and do nothing! We could have found her by now!”

Tears leaked from his eyes. He swept them with the palm of his hand.

“We was a family Murdoc. What happened? Noodle and Russel were happy. I was happy, a-and you were-...you were happy too. You won’t say it but I know you was happier back then. You didn’t torture me as much and you sat with us when we watched films or had breakfast together. You cared Murdoc, don’t you care anymore?”

He sniffled. Murdoc didn’t budge aside from the soft breaths that blew through his nose. Then he inhaled, his chest rising, pushing the duvet up in a perfectly rounded arch. 2D watched as the arch slowly crumpled into folds once more. He flipped through the pages of the book on his lap, amazed at how thin they were, a fraction of a whole sheet of paper. How could something so delicate carry the weight of those words?

“I’m sorry Muds,” 2D mumbled. “I didn’t mean to shout at you. You’s got enough problems as it is I guess. You probably have your reasons for bringing me here or somethin’. We’re Gorillaz, we’ve always got a plan don’t we?”

Murdoc groaned. 2D just smiled at him. The bassist’s peaceful expression left 2D in awe. He gazed at him without fearing whether he would wake up and beat him for having been there. Instead, he let his curiosity take the reigns.

“What are you thinking about Muds?” He brushed the fluffy bangs from Murdoc’s forehead and chuckled.

“Didn’t know you actually had eyebrows under there! And they’re huge!” he laughed. “They’re like caterpillars!”

He poked at the bushy eyebrows, stroking them flat with his thumb.

“Woaw!”

Murdoc jerked in his sleep, his arm flying out from his side and landing a solid whack on 2D’s stomach. The singer doubled, winded from the impact. He gripped the headboard as he fought to catch his breath.

“W-what was that for?” he cried. “That hurt you bastard!”

He raised his hand to hit him back then paused. Murdoc writhed, kicking his legs into the blankets until they toppled onto the floor. His arms flailed, his fingers curled on the sheets and his lower back arched off the mattress. 2D hurried to grab the wet cloth. He dabbed the bassist’s head, his cheeks, his chest and his stomach with the cool water, hoping that it would combat his spiking fever.

“Are you having another nightmare Murdoc?” he whispered as he pressed the cloth to his cheek, cupping it in his hand.

“R-relax Muds, please, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

A strained groan ripped through the bassist’s throat. 2D gulped. He switched the cloth to the other cheek.

“Come on Muds, it’s okay, I’m right here. I won’t let it get to you. I promise. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. Y-you’ve been keeping me protected, n-now it’s my turn to protect you. Okay?”

He whined when Murdoc continued to thrash about, carelessly throwing his arms and smacking him with his knuckles. 2D tried to hold his wrists to keep them still but he yanked them from him before he could get a good grip. In a last resort, 2D lunged on top of the bassist and wrapped around him like a koala, hugging him despite his ceaseless attempts to resist it.

“It’s just a nightmare Muds! Y-you gotta calm down! I-I’ve got you, it’s gonna be okay!”

Gradually, Murdoc stopped moving. Heated breaths seethed through his teeth, his eyebrows knitted and 2D, whose ear was pinned to his chest, heard his fluttering heartbeat return to an even rhythm. He untangled himself from his mate, cautiously, just incase he fell into another nightmare.

“You well now mate?” He traced the bassist’s jawline with his fingertips, studying his weary expression for any signs of distress.

“I guess that’s a yes,” he mumbled as he climbed off of him and stood at his bedside. He wrung his hands in his shirt.

“I-I need a bloody cigarette, yeah, that’s it.”

2D went to the balcony with a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and a bundle of questions in his head. He leaned on the rail, lit a fag between his fingers and inhaled the smoke as though it were the only source of fresh air on the humid island. After it coated his lungs he released it in a heavy sigh. He slumped his shoulders and crossed his ankles. The cigarette bobbed as he scissored it in his fingers.

“What was you dreaming of that made you act like that Muds?” He’d picked up this habit after the first few weeks on the island, thinking aloud. No one else could hear him anyway, so why keep them in his head, he reasoned. He spoke to the cluttered walls in his bedroom and listened to the sticky-tabs rustling under the fan’s weak breeze. Now, he could speak to the sky which he thought to be a much more attentive listener. The wind howled at him. He took a drag.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That sounds about right. I think somethin’ foul’s going on inside his head too. Maybe that’s why he’s always cross.”

Even the wind refused to respond to his bitter remark. He flicked his cigarette over the rail and watched the cinders as they floated from the balcony like little orange fireflies.

“I didn’t mean that. He’s not always cross,” he admitted. “I guess I’m just really worried you know? What if he don’t wake up? Wh-what if I don’t get to see him cross ever again? I’d rather have him beat the tar outta me then...die.”

“Seeing him like this...I don’t know why but it’s bothering me. Makes me heart ache. He deserves a lot of things but he don’t deserve to die!”

He looked up. The moon was veiled in billowy gray fog that wavered like the surface of a black ocean. Stars were hidden in the depths of the fog and occasionally burst through the it’s shallows, surfacing for a brief instant before they were engulfed again. 2D covered his mouth with his free hand and noticed the stubble he’d forgotten to shave. Whatever, he thought. It wasn’t like he had to impress the world with his ‘pretty boy’ facade while they were on the island.

“He has to wake up,” he said, eyebrows scrunched together in the center of his head.

“I can’t be alone here. I-I need him.”

“I love him.”

Worry seized the singer in its clutches and shook him violently. He knew he couldn’t hide it forever, these feelings he’d tried to bottle up inside of him since they’d met. He closed his eyes and remembered the way Murdoc’s face shaped with interest as the singer played the melodica, making up the tune as he went, wondering whether the other man would realize that he wasn’t playing to be in the band anymore, but to be his alone.

He dreamt of that moment, replaying it over and over in his head during their stay at Kong Studios. While lying awake in bed he would pretend that it had turned out differently. Instead of saying “you’re in the band!” Murdoc would have said:

“Beautiful! Absolutely stunning mate, where- where did you learn to play a tune like that?”

“I dunno,” he would reply with a grin just shy of confidence.

“It was- heh, it was so lovely I could just kiss you!”

And he would kiss him. He would pull him in by the waist, touch his body, gently at first but as the passion flared between them they would wrestle for a hotter, deeper, less restrained kind of love. Their limbs would tangle. They would pant, their wet tongues hanging from their mouths and sweat rolling down their cheeks.

2D had learnt to guard these fantasies, sharing them only with the moon above. As he leaned further over the rail and dropped his cigarette butt, he realized that the moon wasn’t one he wanted to tell his secrets to. He wanted to tell Murdoc.

“I’ll tell him,” he mumbled. “I’ll tell him as soon as he wakes up.”

_If he wakes up._

He shuddered at the thought.

“N-no, he will wake up. I’ll tell him then.”

“Tell me _what?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I am excited to hear how you think of the story, the writing and the characters! Again, don't be afraid to leave suggestions and critiques because these are the things that will help me learn and grow as a writer and a person! 
> 
> If you've liked this story, you might also be interested in the Plastic Prison collection in the Gorillaz Shorts Series where you can find works based on all the Gorillaz members as they embark on the long journey to discover how to value/cherish one another as not only bandmates, but as family. 
> 
> Thank you!


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